


Firecracker Blues

by deathbycoldopen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blues, Blues Dancing, Dancing, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathbycoldopen/pseuds/deathbycoldopen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is reluctant, to say the least, when Jo drags him to a blues dancing club.  However, after meeting Castiel, the instructor, Dean learns that dancing isn't so much about the steps as it is about connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firecracker Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Blues dancing is awesome, and everyone needs to try it.
> 
> If you want an idea of what blues looks like, [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28WR4V2NUas) is a good example.
> 
> I made a playlist for this fic, which you can find [here](http://8tracks.com/deathbycoldopen/bluesing-on-the-dance-floor/edit).  It includes all the songs featured in the fic, as well as some of my other favorites to dance to.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I can't believe you're dragging me to a fucking dance class," Dean muttered.  He trudged toward the building reluctantly, already regretting this decision.

Jo rolled her eyes and tugged on his sleeve again, propelling him forward a few extra feet.  For a tiny blonde chick, she was fucking _strong._   "Yeah, well, this is what you get from trying to beat me at pool," she said.

"I thought you were going to take me to a club or something, not a freaking ballroom thing!"  Someone walking nearby shot him an offended look.  He resisted the urge to throw them a finger.  Dean Winchester did not do ballroom dancing, and that was it.  Jo, of course, had other ideas.

"It's not ballroom dancing, it's blues dancing," she told him.  "I already told you that.  Would you just come inside and see for yourself before you start judging it?  Jesus fucking Christ, Dean, it's just for a few hours."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, but allowed her to drag him inside toward the music and laughter.  The truth was, he felt like he owed it to Jo to play nice tonight.  She'd only started talking to him again two weeks ago, and even though it had been his dad who had screwed over her dad all those years ago, he still felt like he had to make it up to her.  After all, Dean was the only one who was alive to apologize to her when she found out what really happened back then.

The music got louder as they walked through the darkened hallway and hung their coats up on the wall.  It was, surprisingly, a song that Dean recognized, Albert King's voice skating over the blues rhythm and soulful guitars.

_Born under a bad sign_  
_I been down since I begin to crawl_  
_If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all._

"Okay, so the music's not bad," he said grudgingly.

Jo smiled at him.  "Just wait until you see the dancing," she said.

They handed the woman at the door the ten bucks for entry, and walked into the blues hall.

Whatever Dean was expecting, it certainly wasn't this.  The room, far from being a fluorescent-bright studio, was comfortably lit, the dimness combatted by the fairy lights strung along the walls.  Instead of mirrors and bars for girls in tutus to stick their feet on, the walls were lined with tables, some already covered with drinks from the bar in the corner.  And the dancers...

It wasn't, as Jo had told him, a ballroom dance with stiff posture and upturned noses.  If it had been, Dean would have walked out immediately, screw being nice to Jo, screw the ten dollars he wouldn't be able to get back.  But the dancing wasn't some stiff movement pretending to be meaningful or some shit; it was loose, heavy, syncopated, soulful.  The dancers moved like they were part of the music rather than just dancing to it.  Their bodies were weighted somehow, like gravity was dragging them down with only their partners holding them up.

_Hard luck and trouble is my only friend_  
_I been on my own ever since I was ten_  
_Born under a bad sign_  
_I been down since I begin to crawl_  
_If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all._

There were several couples on the dance floor, but there was one in particular that drew Dean's attention as they moved across the floor.  The woman was gorgeous, curvy in all the right places, with full lips and dangerous eyes.  The man was, if anything, even more attractive than his partner, and Dean didn't often think that about men: his well-cut jaw was lined with just a touch of stubble, his dark hair in the kind of disarray that suggested all kinds of bedroom experiences just moments before, his figure sharp and well-defined in a dark button down shirt, waistcoat, and red tie that was just calling out to be wrapped around someone's hand to yank the man closer.  Not that Dean wanted to do that, or anything.

But none of that was anything next to how the man moved, God _damn_.  His body twisted in sinuous lines, swinging his partner around with one large, elegant hand on her back and guiding her gently, his knee edging between her legs to pull her flush against him only to fall back, both of them catching each other before they fell to the floor, and somehow it was all graceful, poised, but sensual in a way that made Dean feel like he should avert his eyes.  He didn't; instead, he just stared, enraptured by the flow of the man's body and the smile quirked at the corners of his lips.

_Wine and women is all I crave_  
_A big legged woman is gonna carry me to my grave_  
_Born under a bad sign_  
_I been down since I begin to crawl_  
_If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all._

"So what do you think?" Jo asked, a knowing gleam in her eyes.  Dean realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.

"It's, um..." he said.  "I guess it's not _that_ lame."

"Mm-hmm," Jo hummed, following his gaze.  She whistled.  "She _is_ pretty damn hot," she said.

"Huh?  Oh, yeah."  Dean had barely looked at the woman, despite the way she moved her body like she was trying to give every man in the room a heart attack; he was completely captivated by her partner.  He didn't bother correcting Jo, though.  He wasn't about to confess that sometimes- only _sometimes_ \- his attention was caught by other men.  Nobody knew that about him, and it was going to stay that way.

"Maybe you can dance with her later," Jo said.  "Try to hide your boner when you talk to her, though, I'm not sure she would really appreciate it."

"Shut up," Dean said, rolling his eyes at her.

_Yeah, my bad luck boy  
Been havin' bad luck all of my days, yes._

The attractive man dipped his partner almost to the ground with an impressive feat of strength as the song came to a close.  His partner laughed as he pulled her up again, and whispered something in his ear.  Dean looked away.  Those two looked like a lot more than just dance partners; it would be rude to stare.

Someone flicked on the lights, so that everyone could see without straining their eyes, and the dancing couples separated, chatting with each other.  "Alright," someone said loudly, and with a jolt, Dean realized it was the man he'd been ogling just a moment before.  Dean felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck.  The man sounded even sexier than he looked, if that was possible.  His voice was low and rough, exactly the kind of voice that should be murmuring filthy things into someone's ear as his hands moved along their body.  "Everyone come out on to the dance floor, it's time for the lesson."

Dean swallowed and followed Jo to stand in the circle forming on the dance floor.  He shouldn't be thinking about that stuff now, especially when Jo was about to force him to _dance_.  He'd never danced in his life; since he didn't exactly want to embarrass himself, he had to pay attention.

"Hello everyone," the ridiculously attractive man said, looking around the circle.  His eyes, Dean noticed with a jolt, were a deep, sharp blue that made Dean feel like this man had stolen them from the ocean on a warm summer's day.

_Focus_ , he told himself.  He was here to humor Jo, not to pick up some random dude who probably has a girlfriend and _shit,_ looked like he was probably the instructor.

"Welcome to Firecracker Blues," the instructor was saying.  "My name is Castiel, I will be teaching the lesson tonight, and this is my partner Meg."  He gestured to the woman he'd been dancing with before.  She smirked around the room, something in her expression a little predatory and a lot terrifying.  "How many of you have never done blues before?"

Jo nudged at Dean and he sighed, holding his hand up along with six or seven other people.  They all looked equally as uneasy as he did, which made him feel a little bit better.  Especially considering the way the more experienced dancers were smiling at them.

Castiel- and what kind of a name is Castiel?- nodded as they lowered their hands.  "Great, glad you came tonight," he said in that sexy rumble of a voice.  "Tonight's lesson is beginner, so you shouldn't have any trouble following along."  He nodded to Meg, and they both moved into the center of the circle.  "Blues is, as I'm sure you noticed, not like a lot of other ballroom dances.  The emphasis is not on set steps or movements but rather on weight.  So I want you all to stand with your feet shoulder width apart, and try to find your center of balance.  It should be somewhere in your core, near your waist or your hips.  Try rocking back and forth, jumping, whatever works so that you can find it."

Jo gave Dean the stink eye until he started rocking back and forth on his toes.  He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to be finding, but whatever.

"Find it?" Castiel asked, to murmurs of confirmation.  "Good.  Now, I want you to drop it, like this."  His posture shifted instantaneously from upright and ramrod straight to loose and low, his knees bent and springy.

He spent the next few minutes teaching the difference between merely bending your knees and actually dropping your weight, and then moved on to the basic blues step.  Thankfully, it was so simple that even Dean could do it, a simple weight shift from one foot to the other.  Castiel taught them about the pulse, about moving forward and backward, and then smiled at them and told them to pair off.

Dean looked at Jo, but she was already chatting with the man next to her.  The woman on his other side was also already paired off, leaving Dean standing awkwardly alone.  Maybe he should just step aside.

"No partner?" someone said, and he jumped.  Castiel smiled at him.  "That's fine," the instructor said.  "I'll partner with you."

Dean swallowed and tried not to look like he was panicking.  It hadn't even occurred to him that he might actually be _partnered_ with the guy he found so attractive.  This was the opposite of what he wanted to happen tonight; but Castiel was still smiling at him, so he nodded.

"Everyone partnered up?" Castiel said in a louder voice.  "Okay, leads, I want you to shape your hands like this."

"Like you're holding two cans of beer," Meg added, raising her eyebrows at the man she was paired with.  He hurriedly pretended he was holding two cans of beer.

"Follows, you're going to rest your hands on top of their hands, like this," Castiel said.  He placed his hands on Dean's.  They were warm and large and Dean tried not to be fascinated by them.  "This is called open hold.  It's one of the three kinds of holds used in blues.  If you don't like your partner, this is probably the one you'll want to use."  A few chuckles moved around the circle, although looking at Castiel's deadpan face, Dean wasn't sure he was actually joking.  "Now we're going to do close hold, which is the most useful hold.  Leads, your right hand goes on your follow's back.  _Not_ on the lower back," he added hurriedly, before any of the men could move.  "Your hand needs to be either on their shoulder blade, or just below it.  Follows, if your lead's hand starts to wander, feel free to push them over.  For follows, your hand should go either on their shoulder or on their bicep, depending on height differences.  Make sure your arms are connected as much as possible."

Castiel raised his eyebrows at Dean, who hadn't moved.  He hurriedly put his hand on Castiel's back, the other man's hand settling on his shoulder.  They were standing close enough together that Dean could feel Castiel's body heat, and it was sending shivers down Dean's spine.  This was ridiculous- he'd never been this aware of someone else's body before, and the person was male and a fucking stranger to boot.  Dean didn't know the first thing about him, except that his eyes were blue and his hands were strong and his body graceful, and Dean was having a hard time breathing right about now.

"Drop your weight a little bit more," Castiel murmured.  "Good- feel the counterbalance?"

"Counterbalance?" Dean said.  His voice sounded normal, to his surprise.

"If you let go of me right now, we would both fall.  It's good," Castiel added hurriedly at the apologetic look on Dean's face.  "It's how you get the best connection between lead and follow.  Try doing a few of the basic step- but don't tell me to do anything with your hand.  Just let me feel it."

Dean hesitantly shifted his weight; to his surprise, Castiel moved with him without any extra prompting.  A little more confidant now, he tried moving forward, and his follow took a step backward.  A half turn, another basic step with a little pulse added in the way Castiel had taught them.  Castiel followed it all perfectly.

"Good," Castiel said, smiling a little.  Dean smiled back.  He couldn't really help it.  "You're quite good, you know.  You've never done blues before?"

Dean shook his head, a little sheepishly.  "I've always thought dancing was kinda girly," he admitted.

Castiel raised his eyebrows.  "Is that supposed to be a bad thing?" he asked.

Dean opened his mouth, then reconsidered what he was going to say.  "I guess not.  Especially not when it's this sexy," he said, winking, and _dear God why did he do that_.

Castiel outright laughed at that, easing Dean's mortification a little.  "It is a bit difficult to argue with," he said.  He glanced around the room.  "Alright," he said loudly to the rest of the room.  "The last hold is close embrace.  The hand positions are similar to close hold, except you'll be standing much closer, so the follow's hand shifts closer to the back of the lead's neck, and the lead's hand moves closer to the center of the follow's back.  The important thing about this hold is connection, as well as keeping your weight dropped so that you aren't inadvertently humping your partner."

"Leave room for baby Jesus," Meg drawled.

Castiel frowned at her, looking half irritated and half just plain confused, then moved on.  "Okay everyone, time to try it out," he said, then turned back to Dean.

Who was trying really, really hard not to panic.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Castiel, moving his hand to the dip in between his shoulder blades.  Castiel's hand had slipped to the back of his neck, perilously close to carding through his hair.  He kept a tiny bit of air between their bodies, not quite sure what would happen if he closed that last centimeter of space.  "Um, is this good?" Dean said.

Castiel chuckled.  He moved forward slightly, and suddenly they were connected all the way down their bodies, standing practically cheek to cheek.  Dean could feel every single one of Castiel's heartbeats reverberating through his own ribcage.  "You could relax a little bit," he said.

"Oh," Dean said, and yeah, his voice came out a little strangled this time.  "Yeah, it's just, um... personal space, you know?"  Eloquent, Winchester.  Very eloquent.

He actually _felt_ Castiel smile, and then he was gone, stepping away to a reasonable distance.  Dean suddenly felt a little cold.  "Sorry," Castiel said sheepishly.  "Sometimes I have a hard time with personal boundaries."

Dean tried to wave it away, but Castiel was already turning back to the rest of the class.  "Let's rotate partners and try dancing to music, shall we?" he said, shooting Dean another apologetic smile.

Dean tried to think of a way that could have been more awkward, and drew a blank.

\---

As soon as the lesson finished- thankfully without any more direct contact with Castiel- Dean practically ran over to the bar and ordered a beer.  He sat down in a corner, watching as the music started again and people began to dance.  He very carefully didn't look at Castiel dancing with Meg again, which Castiel made ten times more difficult by moving them directly into Dean's line of sight.

By his second beer, Dean was feeling a little calmer.  Sure, he'd completely made a fool of himself in front of an attractive guy, but it wasn't like it actually mattered.  He wasn't about to try to get in Castiel's pants, after all, so there wasn't any harm in what had happened.  He could even laugh at himself a little bit, because since when did he get so distracted by someone else that he lost control of his thoughts?

He watched as Jo danced, chatting and laughing with her partners, looking perfectly at home on the dance floor.  That's what tonight was about, anyway, making Jo happy after a truly fucked up couple of months.  Maybe he'd even ask her to dance before they left; she would appreciate the gesture, even if she would laugh at Dean's lack of experience.

"You're not going to ask _anyone_ to dance?"

He looked up and found Castiel standing next to his table.  He'd had enough beer that his nerves didn't jangle quite at much at the sight; he was able to smile and shake his head with a modicum of composure.  "I'm only here because my friend dragged me," he admitted.  "Plus, I'm not very good."

"You're a beginner," Castiel corrected him.  "And you won't get any better if you don't practice."  he held out his hand.  "I promise I'll respect your personal boundaries this time," he added when Dean just stared at his hand uncomprehendingly.

Dean swallowed.  "That's okay, I'm-" he began.  Castiel wiggled his fingers, and Dean fought a smile.  There was something simultaneously awkward, adorable, and sexy as fuck about this man, and it made an odd lightness bubble up somewhere in Dean's chest.  "Fine," he muttered, grabbing the other man's hand.  "Just one dance."

Castiel smiled.  "Of course," he said smoothly, pulling Dean out onto the dance floor.  He placed Dean's hand onto his shoulder and slid his own hand onto Dean's back.

"Hey," Dean said.  "What are you doing?"

Castiel shrugged.  "It's easier to follow than it is to lead, especially for beginners," he said.  "This way you can learn without having to come up with all the moves yourself.  Plus," and his eyes sparkled, "it's more fun for me this way."

Dean didn't ask why it was more fun this way, mostly because the next song had started, a single voice crooning a cappella, and Castiel was suddenly moving.  For a second, Dean completely forgot how to move his feet without tripping over them; Castiel politely stopped so that he could find his balance again, though he was fighting a smile as he did so.

"Relax," he murmured.  "Don't try to predict what I'm going to do; just feel it."

The music swelled into a full bluesy swing, and Dean found himself being moved across the floor, practically manhandled into dancing the way Castiel wanted.  He found that if he payed attention to the music and the press of Castiel's hand on his back, he could get through the movements without tripping at least.

_Fish in the sea, you know how I feel_  
_River running free, you know how I feel_  
_Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel_  
_It's a new dawn_  
_It's a new day_  
_It's a new life_  
_for me_  
_and I'm feeling good._

It was easy, once Dean got the hang of it, to get lost in the movement, in the swing of the beat and the warmth of Castiel's body.  Castiel swung him around, guided him to swing around until he was practically sitting on Castiel's bent knee, his other leg naturally wrapping around Castiel's.  They pulsed in time to the beat, spun, curled around each other as they became caught up in the music and their own synchronized breaths.

_It's a new dawn_  
_It's a new day_  
_It's a new life_  
_for me_  
_and I'm feeling good._

The song ended, leaving Dean and Castiel staring at each other, standing much closer than they had been when the dance started.  Dean felt caught, somehow, in the blue of Castiel's eyes, and it was ridiculous, because he didn't even know the guy.

"Um," he said, and the spell was broken.  Castiel moved back, just enough that they couldn't feel each other's breaths ghosting on their faces.  "That was fun," Dean admitted.  "Though I'll deny it if you ever tell anyone."

Castiel smiled.  "I told you it would be, um..." he said, then frowned a little.  "I don't think I caught your name before.  That's probably rude of me."

"It's Dean," he said.  Offering his hand seemed a little redundant after they had spent an entire song pressed up against each other, but he did it anyway.  Possibly because of his strange fascination with Castiel's hands.

"Castiel," the other man said, unnecessarily.  "Or Cas, if you prefer.  Meg tells me that Castiel is a bit of a mouthful for most people."

"Just a little bit," Dean told him, smiling.  "What kind of a name is Castiel, anyway?"

"Angelic, according to my father," Cas said, shrugging.  "My parents named all of their children after angels, perhaps in the hope that we would be angelic in nature rather than typical toddlers or teenagers."

"And were you?"

A wry smile tugged at Cas' lips.  "Well, one of my brothers nearly burned down the house when he was five, and that was the smallest infraction he ever committed."

Dean threw his head back and laughed.  "And the rest of you?" he said after catching his breath, still chuckling a little.  "Was it all waistcoats and halos with you as a kid?"

Castiel opened his mouth to answer when a dancing couple ran into him- the next dance had started without either Dean or Cas noticing.  Cas waved off the couple's apologies and smiled at Dean.  "Maybe we should-" he said, motioning toward the tables at the edges of the room.

"Probably," Dean said.  "You want a drink or something?" he added, making his way toward the bar.

When the bartender handed over their drinks, Cas reached for his wallet but Dean got there first.  "You gave me an awesome dance, it's the least I can do to pay you back," he said when Castiel protested.

"Dance isn't exactly a commodity," Cas muttered as they sat down at a table, making Dean laugh again.  Castiel looked a little pleased with himself at that.

"Dude, what are you drinking?" Dean asked.  He'd thought it was beer at first, but the brand wasn't something he recognized, and he prided himself on his knowledge of beer brands.

"Hard cider," Cas said, taking a sip.  "It's good!" he insisted when Dean wrinkled his nose.

"It's like apple juice with alcohol in it, isn't it?  How is _that_ good?"

Cas rolled his eyes.  "It's not like apple juice with alcohol, it's cider.  Here, try it."

"No thank you, I like my drinks bitter and manly."

Cas fixed him with a look that made Dean feel like he could see all the way down to his soul.  Dean tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered under his gaze.  "Dean," he said firmly, and that was it, Dean was lost.  Castiel could ask him to kill someone with that tone of voice, and Dean would do it, no questions asked.

"Fine," he grumbled, wondering what the fuck was happening to him.  He grabbed Castiel's glass and took a sip.  The cider was nowhere near as sweet as he was expecting, was dry and almost savory with a sharp layer of carbonation and alcohol dancing on his tongue.  It filled his stomach with an odd warm feeling; he wasn't sure if it was the cider or the fact that Cas' lips had touched the glass right before his own.  "Okay, I guess it's not bad..." he admitted with false sullenness, and Castiel laughed.  The warm feeling in his stomach expanded, and he couldn't help but smile back at him.  "So you never answered my question," he said as he handed the cider back to Castiel.

"Question?" Cas said, frowning.

"Were you a little angel as a kid, or were you an accomplice in the house fire plot?"

Cas shook his head, ducking his head to hold back his smile.  "No, I was never as disobedient as that," he said.  "I liked the idea of living up to my parents expectations of me.  In theory."

"And in practice?"

Castiel's smile grew mischievous.  "It proved to be a little difficult in practice," he admitted.  "I put up a good show, but I wasn't always... well.  Let's just say that when my father told me that I should eat my vegetables because people were starving, I started saving them and giving them to the homeless in my neighborhood."

"Seriously?" Dean said.  "What did your dad say?"

"I reasoned with him that since I was not starving, that I should give the food that I wasn't eating to people who were.  He was a bit at a loss."  Cas shrugged and took another sip of his cider, as if he hadn't discovered the loophole that every kid was dying to find, _and gotten away with it_.

"Dude, you're practically a superhero for that," Dean said.  "I used to just give my vegetables to my little brother.  He was a freak who loved asparagus, so it worked out pretty well.  Actually," he added thoughtfully, "He's still a freak who loves asparagus.  The guy practically lives off of salads.  Honestly, I'm surprised he turned out to be such a giant, since he barely eats any protein.  I try to get him to eat the good stuff, but he's a stubborn sonofabitch when he wants to be."

"Are you two close?" Cas asked.  He'd shifted closer at some point, Dean realized, so that they were sitting with their knees almost touching.  He wondered distantly if it was because Cas didn't understand personal space, or if there was something bubbling underneath Castiel's skin as well.

"Yeah, well, we're all each other has left," Dean said.  "Our, um...  My mom... she died when I was just a kid, and my dad..."  He took a good long drink of his beer.  "My dad died a few years ago."

"Dean, I'm sorry," Cas said, and the funny thing was, it looked like he meant it.  Dean shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"Sammy is my family," he said, taking another sip.  "It's... it's kind of my job to look out for him, you know?  I've been taking care of him practically his whole life, anyway.  I don't know, I kinda just feel like I gotta do right by him, or something.  Family sticks together, an all that."

There was something soft and tender in Castiel's eyes, but Dean didn't look at them long enough to find out what it was.  Even so, the thing was, it didn't feel weird saying this stuff to Cas.  It felt... comfortable, somehow, like he _wanted_ to confess all the details of his life to this virtual stranger, all the nights spent in crappy motel rooms and all the days stealing food so that Sammy wouldn't go hungry while dad was out drinking his grief away.  And he suddenly felt sure that it was _okay_ to tell Castiel all of this, that the other man would listen without judgement.  He glanced at Cas, and for a minute everything felt alright, like this was exactly where he was supposed to be: talking with a beautiful stranger over drinks, as the mournful chords of the blues wafted over them, and all around them, couples moved together in perfect tandem.

Dean lost track of how long they talked.  Long enough that they had to get new drinks twice; long enough that Cas no longer felt like a stranger, even a warm and welcoming stranger.  Dean felt like he and Cas had known each other for years, knew each other better than anyone Dean had ever known, except for maybe Sam.  They talked about their childhoods, motels and taking care of Sam for Dean, strict brothers and absent parents for Cas.  They talked about their jobs, how Dean hated the way he got into fixing cars, because of the way his dad forced him into it, but how he loved the work itself and the people he worked with; how Cas wished he could just teach dance as his only job, but how he was expected to follow in his brothers' footsteps and go to business school.  They laughed about the ways they coped with their families, the things they did day to day, the stupid things they said after three drinks had loosened their tongues and made them trip over their words.

The dirty blare of a trumpet had just begun to slide over them when someone slid into the seat next to Castiel.  "So this is where you've been hiding all night," Meg said, looking Cas up and down hungrily.  "Any reason you haven't been moving that fine ass on the dance floor?"

Cas glanced at his watch and his eyes widened.  "Oh, sorry," he said.  "I got a little caught up in the conversation."

"No worries," Meg said, moving her gaze over to Dean.  He shifted uncomfortably under her speculation.

"Ah," Cas said.  "Meg, this is Dean.  Dean, this is Meg."

"Nice to meet you," Meg said, then turned back to Cas, completely ignoring Dean.  She was leaning so close to Castiel that she was practically sitting in his lap.  Something in Dean's gut squeezed painfully when she raised a perfectly manicured hand to trace Castiel's jaw.  "You want to come dance with me?" she murmured.

Cas glanced at Dean, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted again.  "Dean, _there_ you are," Jo said, striding over to their table with much less predatory grace than Meg had.  "Hiding out in the corner, I see.  Come on, the torture's over, my mom called and wants me to come home."  She rolled her eyes as she said it; Ellen was, even from Dean's point of view, just a little bit overprotective of her eighteen year old daughter.  Not that Dean would ever say anything to Ellen's face, or risk getting his ass handed to him on a bloodied and tarnished platter.

Dean almost protested, suddenly imagining one last dance with Cas, letting their bodies move close together again, this time with the warmth of familiarity as well as the heat of lust.  But when he looked over at Cas, his heart plummeted, speared through with ice.

Cas, busy sticking his tongue into Meg's mouth, didn't notice that Dean had frozen next to him.

"Yeah, let's go," Dean said, and distantly he was surprised that it sounded almost normal.  He felt like he was split in half, part of him walking normally with Jo without looking back, part of him still sitting at that table, watching the man he'd been stupid enough to develop feelings for kiss someone else.  He walked through the hall quickly, trying to outrun that paralyzed part of him, leaving Jo hurrying to catch up.  As he walked, the melancholy music chased after him, trying to drag him back to where he didn't want to look.

_I'm so unhappy, yes I'm so blue_  
_I can hang my head down and cry_  
_Now you can say what you chose_  
_I'm all confused_  
_I've got those old sugar blues,_  
_yes pretty baby,_  
_I've got those old sugar blues._

\---

The thing was, Dean was a pro when it came to pushing away unwanted thoughts.  Especially when those thoughts were about a certain man with ruffled dark hair and blue eyes.  Especially when those thoughts involved a crush he hadn't even wanted to develop in the first place, on a _man_ for fuck's sake.  Dean didn't want to think about any of it, so he didn't.

In fact, he wasn't thinking about it so determinedly that when he saw Castiel standing hesitantly by the door at the garage almost a week after Sugar Blues Night, he almost didn't even see him.

"Dean?"

He nearly had a heart attack as he spun around.  Castiel was smiling at him, one hand resting on the top of his Prius.  He looked, Dean noticed through a sort of daze, just as amazing in the daylight as he did in the dim lighting of blues night; he was dressed a little more casually in a pair of dark jeans and a blue sweater, but somehow the simplicity made him _more_ attractive.  Or maybe it was just that Dean had been so firmly _not_ thinking about him that when he was actually faced with him, it was like being slapped in the face.

Or stabbed in the gut, but that was one of the things that Dean wasn't thinking about.

"Cas, hey," Dean said.  "Just couldn't get enough of this sweet ass the other night, could you."  Smooth, Winchester.

"You did leave without saying goodbye," Castiel pointed out.  "But believe it or not, I didn't actually come here to see you.  My car has been making strange sounds when I turn it on, and I needed help ascertaining the problem."

"Uh huh," Dean said, carefully keeping his mind out of the gutter, despite how ridiculously suggestive that sentence was.  Cas didn't seem to notice the accidental innuendo.  "Well, let me take a look, see what I can do."

He opened up the hood and got to work, trying to ignore Castiel.  It was a lot harder to do that when Castiel was standing less than three feet away and watching him work with those intent blue eyes.

He didn't find anything with the first examination, which didn't necessarily mean anything.  He sighed, wiping his hands on the rag tucked into his belt as he moved out from under the hood.  "Well, whatever's wrong with it, it's gonna need a full diagnostic to figure it out," Dean said.  "Are you okay to leave it here for a while?  It'll probably only take a few hours, but if it turns out to be something complicated, then it might take a day or two."

Cas' face fell.  He sighed.  "Yes, I suppose I can leave it here," he said.  He glanced at his watch.  "Are there any good places to eat in this area?  I'm afraid I forgot to eat lunch before I came, and I'd rather not take the bus all the way home before I eat."

"Yeah, there's a decent burger joint just around the corner," Dean told him.  He hesitated.  This was a bad idea.  A really, really, _really_ bad idea.  But he blurted it out anyway.  "Hey, I was just about to take my lunch break.  Want some company?"

He almost forgot how bad of an idea it was when Castiel's eyes lit up.  "Some company would be great, thank you," Cas said.

"Awesome," Dean said, unable to help smiling.  He glanced down at his grease-stained work shirt and winced.  "Um, let me just clean up first, and then we can go."

In the staff room as he looted through his locker for a clean shirt, without Castiel looking back at him with those stupid blue eyes and that adorable smile, it was a lot harder to justify going out to eat with the guy.  Dean almost changed his mind, going as far as putting his work shirt back on, because all he could think of when Cas wasn't right in front of him was the way Cas' fingers had tangled in Meg's hair as he kissed her.

Dean paused before he slammed his locker shut again.  This was ridiculous.  He hadn't gone to that blues night in order to hook up with some guy.  He'd managed to make a friend that night, and it was stupid to throw that away just because the man had a girlfriend.  He liked Cas.  A lot.  He wanted to see more of him.  If it had to be in the confines of friendship, then so be it.  He could live with that.

He met Cas outside and they walked to the restaurant together, making comfortable small talk.  It felt like they'd been friends for years, and Dean didn't really want to examine why he felt so happy with Cas walking next to him on a sunny thursday afternoon.

"So wait, you've really never seen Star Wars?" Dean asked in disbelief as they slid into a booth.  " _Seriously_?"

Cas shrugged.  "I don't watch very much television, or go to the movies, so no."

"What, are you too good for the movies or something?" Dean asked teasingly.

"No, I just never get around to it," Castiel said, picking up a menu.  "It's so much less expensive to read a book in any case."

Dean shook his head.  "Dude you're missing out.  TV and movies are two of the greatest inventions ever made."  He paused, looking at his menu, even though he would probably just get the same thing he always got here.  After a second, he shut it.  "No, you know what, I'm not letting you get through life without at least seeing Star Wars.  You're coming over to my place sometime, and we're doing a marathon."

Cas raised his eyebrow.  "I am, am I?" he murmured, and _fuck_ that was hot.  It was possible that Dean lost his train of thought for a second.

"Yeah," he said lamely.  He cleared his throat and looked around the restaurant to call a waitress over, and to look away from his new friend who he was determined _not_ to ogle.

The thing was, he mused as he watched Cas give the waitress an overcomplicated order, Dean was _better_ at being a friend than anything more than that.  He'd managed to ruin any relationship he'd had that moved past a one night stand, and the fact that Cas was a guy would probably compound that problem exponentially.  So it was a good thing that Cas was dating Meg, because it meant that Dean didn't have even the slightest chance with him.  There was no pressure of a potential relationship, no fluttering hope that maybe they could be something more, no heartbreak because he fucked everything up yet again.  This whole friendship thing was, Dean decided, infinitely easier.

If only he could stop wondering what Cas tasted like.

"So I have a question," Cas said when the waitress left.

"What's up?" Dean said, pretending he hadn't just been staring at the bit of Castiel's clavicle peeking out from under the sweater.

"Are you coming back to blues night tomorrow?"

"Ah," Dean said, looking down at his hands as he played with a strip of plastic veneer that was peeling off the tabletop.  "I hadn't really planned on it."

Dean wondered if he imagined Cas's shoulders slumping just a tiny bit.  "Oh."  He paused.  "Why not?"

Dean shrugged.  "Dancing's not really my thing.  I only went last week 'cause Jo practically blackmailed me."

Cas stared at him.  He did that a lot, actually.  Dean wondered if it came part and parcel with his difficulty in understanding personal space.  "You barely danced at all last week, so how do you know?" Cas said derisively.  "You shouldn't dismiss it just because of one experience."

Dean decided not to tell him that the one experience had been pretty damn fantastic, that he just didn't want to watch Cas making out with Meg again.  Just friends or not, Dean didn't really feel like torturing himself with that image again.

"Maybe you should come back one more time and actually dance instead of sitting in the corner all night," Castiel went on.  "Then you can dismiss to your heart's content."

Dean raised an eyebrow at him.  "Well, you were sitting in the corner with me.  You have no room to judge me."

"Dean, I teach five different dance classes a week, I think I'm allowed to just watch for a little while," Cas said dryly.  "So you're coming tomorrow night, yes?"

Dean sighed.  It was really hard to deny Cas anything when he made that stupid puppy dog expression at him.  "Cas..." he complained.

Castiel folded his arms on the table, suddenly businesslike.  "Here's what's going to happen," he said.  "If you come to blues tomorrow night, then I will come over to your place at your earliest convenience and watch Star Wars with you.  That's my offer, take it or leave it."

"Fine," Dean said, feeling his heart squeeze when Cas' face broke into a smile.  _Just friends_ , Dean reminded himself.  "Blues dancing on Friday, Star Wars marathon on Saturday.  Deal?"

Cas nodded and shook Dean's offered hand.  "Deal."

If their hands stayed clasped just a little too long, well, who would know?

\---

Dean paused at the door, listening to the strains of some remix of "Summertime" waft down the hallway.  He wiped his hands on his jeans and took a deep breath.  It was stupid to be nervous, he reminded himself.  It wasn't like he was going on a date, or anything.  Even though he had, for whatever reason, ended up wearing his usual date clothes- his only nice pair of jeans, a black shirt, and his green overshirt that Lisa used to say brought out his eyes.  Even though he was going to blues night alone because Jo had a cold.  Even though his heart was pounding with nerves and anticipation.  It wasn't a date, because he and Cas were just friends, and besides, blues dancing wasn't like any kind of date Dean had ever been on.

There were only a few couples on the dance floor when Dean came in, and none of them involved Castiel.  Dean looked around at the people watching from the sidelines, suddenly and irrationally panicked that Cas had decided not to come tonight.

"Hello Dean."

Dean was smiling before he even turned around to find Cas standing next to him, but then again, so was Cas.  Dean's smile fell a little bit when he noticed Meg was there as well, but he rallied it.  They were just friends, it was fine.  "Hey Cas.  Meg," he added, a little bit less cordially.  She nodded at him and looked back to the dancers.

"I'm glad you came," Cas said earnestly.

Dean laughed, even though he was more inclined to just stare at the other man.  Waistcoats should be made illegal for people that attractive, Dean decided.  "Yeah well, Star Wars is on the line," he said.  "I'm not about to let you live life without knowing about Han Solo and Darth Vader."

"And what happens if I don't like the movies?" Cas asked.

Dean snorted.  "Impossible, it's Star Wars," he scoffed.  "If you don't like them, then I'll have to commit you to an institution or something, because clearly something isn't right with you."

"As long as I'm not forced to watch more Star Wars while I'm there," Castiel said serenely.  He looked at the dance floor as "Summertime" came to a close.  "I have to start the lesson," he said, then glanced at Dean.  "You're actually going to dance this time, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean said.  "Go do your thing."

The lesson was surprisingly enjoyable.  The girls that Dean ended up partnered with were all nice, and more importantly, just as inexperienced with dance as he was, so that all the awkwardness wasn't as awkward as it could have been.  Castiel taught them how to do turns and some more intricate moves that were surprisingly simple once Cas explained them.  Dean found himself grinning all the way through, feeling a jolt of electricity down his spine whenever Cas glanced at him and smiled back.  Which happened often enough that Dean felt buzzed just from stolen glances across the room.  That is, until Cas demonstrated one of the moves with Meg, and Dean's good mood suddenly deflated.

_Just friends_ , he reminded himself.  There was no reason for him to feel jealous or disappointed.  None whatsoever.

At the end of the lesson, he ended up asking the girl next to him for a dance- Charlie, he thought her name was.  He didn't feel confident enough to try any of the moves Cas had taught, but the song was slow enough and Charlie was fascinating enough for it not to matter.

"No, see you _have_ to read the books to get the full experience," Charlie said as Dean tentatively tried to lead a turn.  "The movies are great, but you don't get half the material out of them that you do from the books."

"Sure, but Tolkien couldn't write for shit," Dean said.  He wasn't quite sure when the conversation had turned to _Lord of the Rings_ , and when he decided to tell someone that he actually _loved_ the movies, no matter what he'd told Sam after they saw them.  But when Charlie had mentioned them, and he'd noticed Cas smiling at him from across the room, he'd blurted it all out.  And surprisingly, he was having fun.  Charlie was bright and energetic, and he found himself caught up in the conversation as they danced together.

"That's not the point," Charlie argued.  "You have to power through all the dry descriptions so that you can get to all the really good stuff."

"Or you can just watch the movies, and get all the good stuff without having to do any of that," Dean pointed out with a smile, just as the song ended.

"You're missing the point," Charlie began, but Castiel interrupted her by appearing next to Dean's elbow.

"Excuse me," he said to her.  "Could I steal your partner for the next dance?"

Charlie smiled.  "Yeah, of course.  This isn't over though," she told Dean as she moved away.

Castiel watched her go.  He was smiling when he turned back to Dean.  "I'm glad you're having fun," he said.

Dean jumped when Cas put his hand on his back and pulled him closer.  "What are you doing?" Dean asked, his heart suddenly pounding.

Cas raised his eyebrows.  "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked, leading Dean into the basic step.  Dean followed dazedly, no longer able to think about anything except the warm weight of Castiel's hand on his shoulder blade and the length of his arm connected underneath Dean's.

This was somehow even worse than the last time they danced, because Dean _knew_ Cas now.  He'd talked with him for hours, first last week during blues night, then again yesterday at lunch until Dean had to rush back to work half an hour late.  He knew what his childhood had been like, what he looked like when he'd had a bit to drink, what kind of food he liked, his dreams for the future, how much he loved cats.  They were just friends; but Dean didn't usually stand this close to his friends, dance with them, feel his heartbeat pick up as they got closer, revel in their body heat and yearn for more.  They danced in silence, and that made it still worse, because all that Dean could focus on was Cas' body moving in perfect counterpoint to his own, and how much he wanted to close that last distance between the two of them and kiss him.

At the end of the song, he let go of Cas with relief, not caring that he was being rude.  He opened his mouth to say something- he had no idea what- when his eyes fell on a nearby table, and all he could do was stare.

"Dean?" Cas said, frowning at him.  "Are you okay?"

Dean barely heard him; he did notice, however, when Cas turned his head to see what Dean was looking at.  "Wait, Cas-" he sputtered, but it was too late.  Cas' eyes had already fallen on Meg as she kissed some poor soul so thoroughly that he seemed to have collapsed.

And then, amazingly, Cas turned back to Dean as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.  "Dean, what is it?"

Dean's throat finally came unstuck; the same could not be said for his brain.  "Meg- she, she's..." he managed.

Cas frowned.  "Yes, she does that," he said.

Dean swallowed and tried to regain his composure.  His heart was pounding so hard he felt dizzy; he felt like he was standing on a cliff, and there was nothing to stop him from stepping over the edge.  Not anymore.  "You and Meg aren't...?" he said.

"What?  No, not at all," Castiel said, tilting his head in confusion.

"But... last week, you were kissing," Dean said, not caring that he sounded like an idiot.  A lovestruck, jealous idiot.

A smile smile unfolded along Castiel's lips.  "Like I said, she does that.  We've never done more than kiss."  He paused.  "Dean," he said slowly, a sudden understanding passing over his face, "is _that_ why-"

Dean didn't let him finish.  Instead, he grabbed Cas' left arm and put it on his shoulder, and slipped his own hand onto Castiel's back.  At Cas' surprised look, Dean smirked.  "Can I have the next dance?" he said.

A smile spread across Cas's features as the next song began to play, and Dean led him into a turn.

The music pulsed; it thrummed.  Dean let his body flow with it, not caring if he was doing proper blues dancing or not.  He let the music decide, and Cas flowed with his.  The movement was clumsy and off, but somehow it was perfect, too.

_You're crazy and it's rubbing off to meet my wild side_  
_I like it_  
_You're different and it makes me wanna take you for a ride_  
_I like it_  
_There's something nice about the way you make my head reel_  
_It's crazy_  
_I'm wrapped up, I'm not myself, I wanna get in my thrills_  
_Oo the way you're making me feel._

Suddenly, as Dean tried to lead Cas in a turn, Cas pulled himself in, snatching the lead with a sly grin.  "Hey," Dean said, but his heart was pounding and their bodies were moving together and he couldn't find any more words to complain.

Castiel's knee edged in between Dean's; his hand was sliding along Dean's back to pull him just a little closer.  Dean let his own hand move up to touch Castiel's neck, just a light graze on the bare skin that sent a shiver down his spine.  They curled around each other, pulsing to the music, barely moving except for where the weight of gravity and the heavy beat led them.

_You're moving and it's getting me a little insane  
I like it_

Cas shifted his weight and Dean shifted with him, until they were flush against each other, their legs slotted together so that every inch of their bodies were connected.  Cas' knee nudged at Dean's and suddenly they were moving, turning, never breaking the connection that flowed down there bodies in one delicious line of heat.

_I'm lost in you it's hard to find myself a grip on the reins  
I like it_

They were so closely entwined that when Cas let go, they both fell backward, catching each other just before they dropped completely.  Cas moved to bring Dean back; Dean smiled and pushed against his beckoning hand until he could twist them around, turn Cas and pull him back against him, this time with Dean in the lead.  "Ha," he murmured, his lips brushing against Cas' cheek.

"Dean," Cas breathed into his ear.

_Every time you say my name I get a little bit crazed_  
When you stare I lose myself and I forget my own name  
I like it  
It's satisfying I know and you're probably feeling the same  
You know the way to make me second guess my heart  
I'm so beside myself I'm so unsure  
I'm so in love with this game.  
_I like it._

They turned together, neither one of them leading and neither one following, one moment Dean's leg sliding up Cas' as Cas moved him into a low pulse, the next Cas moving backwards as Dean shifted them in a winding path around the dance floor.  Their bodies moved so close together that every breath was synchronized, their hearts beating in time with the beat of the music, until there was no distinguishing the two of them as they danced.

_I like it,  
I like it._

The song ended with a sudden finality.  Dean and Cas stopped moving, still breathing in tandem, their bodies entwined and their faces close enough that their noses were brushing each other's cheeks.

"Hey, Cas?" Dean murmured.  Cas' eyes closed at the touch of breath on his mouth.

"Yes?"

"You wanna head back to my place?"

\---

They barely made it through the door of Dean's apartment before Cas was on him, slamming him against the wall, pressing his mouth with dirty, open-mouthed kisses.  His hands ran along Dean's sides, rucking up his shirt to get to the skin underneath.

"Cas," Dean moaned as Cas mouthed at his jaw, clutching at Cas' clothes.  His breath hitched as Cas bit down gently at his pulse point.  He felt Cas smile against his skin at that, and he bit down again, harder this time.

Dean growled and dragged Cas back up to his mouth, licking his way inside, running his tongue along Cas' teeth, tasting every inch of his mouth that he could reach.  Cas hummed and pushed Dean harder into the wall.  His thigh edged between Dean's legs, brushing against Dean's hardening cock.  Dean groaned at the contact.

"Want you," Cas breathed into Dean's mouth.  "Want you so bad, Dean."

The noise Dean made could most accurately be described as a whimper.  "Bedroom," he managed.

They tripped and stumbled their way toward Dean's bedroom.  Dean tried to fumble with the buttons on Cas' waistcoat and open the door at the same time, and nearly tripped over his own feet as a result.  Cas smiled like he wanted to laugh, but he was too busy sucking on Dean's neck to do it.

"Shut up," Dean said, spinning them and pushing Cas onto the bed before climbing on top of him.

Their bodies lined up the way they already knew they would, lying on a bed merely an extension of pulsing together on the dance floor.  Their cocks came into contact, and even through layers of fabric the touch sent sparks of pleasure flying through Dean's body.  By the sound of Cas' moans, it did for him as well.

Dean worked his mouth along Cas' jawline, unable to help moving his hips against Cas' body in sweet little fucks.  Cas' hands wandered down his body, cupping his ass and tugging at his shirt.

"Too many clothes," Cas gasped.

Dean didn't need to be told twice.  He sat up, pulling off his overshirt and shirt, staring at Cas' long, elegant fingers as they undid the buttons on the waistcoat and button down underneath it.  He was suddenly overwhelmed with need for those fingers to be touching him, _now_.  He barely let Cas toss the shirt aside before he was on him again, gasping with relief when Cas ran his hands down Dean's sides, his fingernails scraping lightly.  He moved his mouth down Cas' chest, nipping at his nipples and soothing them with his tongue, scraping down to his bellybutton and further as Cas shivered beneath him.

" _Dean_ ," Cas said.

Dean mouthed at Cas' erection under his jeans.  Cas whimpered, chest heaving, and Dean smiled.

"You're so fucking hot, Cas," Dean murmured.

Cas breathed out a chuckle and yanked Dean upwards again, twisting them around so that Cas was straddling Dean's hips, stealing the lead back from him.  "I could say the same thing about you," he said, grinding down on Dean's cock.  "Now take your fucking clothes off."

Dean swallowed.  _Shit_ , that was hot.  Dean wasn't sure how he'd ever convinced himself he could live without this.  He popped open the button on his jeans, and shoved them and his boxers unceremoniously down his legs, kicking them off just before Cas's mouth was once more firmly attached to his, tongue moving deep and dirty.  Cas ground his hips once again, and holy fuck he was still wearing his jeans.  The friction was almost too much on Dean's over-sensitized skin; he whined into Cas' mouth and plucked at the waistline of the jeans.  Thankfully, Cas got with the program, unbuttoning them one-handed while the other carded through Dean's hair and he fucked Dean's mouth with his tongue.

Cas pulled the jeans off and covered Dean's body with his own.  Dean cried out at the feeling of skin on skin, Cas' cock lining up with his, their bodies perfectly in tune with one another.  Cas was panting as they pulsed their bodies together, finding the rhythms they had already danced to thrumming through their bodies.

"Cas," Dean moaned.

"I've wanted this so bad, Dean," Cas whispered into his ear in hot, shuddering breaths.  His hand slipped between them, wrapping around both their cocks, and they gasped into each other's mouths.

Dean moved his hand to join Cas', jacking them both off in unison.  "You have?" he said.

"Noticed you... right away last- _ah_ \- last week," Cas told him, his voice rough against Dean's jawline.  "Thought you didn't like me, at first."  He stuttered over his words as Dean twisted his fingers over the head of his cock, smearing precome down the sides and over their fingers.

Dean chuckled, but it turned into a moan as waves of heat seared through him.  "I noticed you first," he said.  "Dancing..."  The word ended on a whine, Cas' mouth working down his throat, determined to mark him.  "God, you're so hot when you dance," Dean said.

Cas hummed against his skin, and the rhythm quickened, following the pace of their heartbeats and the echoes of the dance floor.  Lightning was flashing in Dean's nerves, the resulting thunder the music of their dance, primal and dirty but so _good_ that Dean wanted to die from it.  They were lost in it, pleasure guiding their bodies as they moved together, trying to climb even closer, soak into each other's skin until they were one body, inextricably tied together for this and every dance.

Dean came with a shout as Cas dug his teeth into his shoulder; Cas wasn't far behind, his breath stuttering as Dean pumped him through his orgasm.  With a groan, Cas collapsed on Dean's chest, nuzzling into the neck he had so thoroughly marked.

Dean smiled and carded his fingers through the mess of Cas' hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.  He felt perfectly happy, right now.  Maybe later he might start to worry, about whether they had just ruined their newborn friendship, what he was going to tell people about his supposed heterosexuality, whether he'd be able to maintain a relationship with someone he liked so much without fucking it up as usual, whether Cas even wanted to be in a relationship, or if this was a one night stand that would leave Dean broken.  Later he could worry about all that; but for right now, his arms were wrapped around someone he loved, their bodies still tuned together, and that was enough.

Maybe it would always be enough, he mused as his eyes drifted closed.  Maybe they could lie like this for a while, and kiss tenderly as they cleaned up, before collapsing in the bed, curled around each other like they never wanted to touch anything else.  Maybe they could wake up in each other's arms, kiss lazily in the morning sunlight, make each other coffee and breakfast.  Maybe Cas could wear one of Dean's shirts and sit close to him on the couch as Dean set out popcorn and started the first Star Wars for their marathon.  Maybe Cas would hate the movies, or maybe he'd love them, but it wouldn't matter because he'd look at Dean with those stupid blue eyes, and Dean would be lost in them, and maybe it would be enough.  Maybe it would be enough that they could move together in tandem, now and for the rest of their lives; and Dean knew that it was enough, because that thought didn't scare him in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> The first song that Cas and Meg are dancing to is "Born Under a Bad Sign" by Albert King  
> Dean and Cas dance to "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone  
> When Dean is leaving the first night the song that's playing is "Sugar Blues" performed by the Preservation Hall Jazz Band  
> The last song they dance to is "Firecracker" by David Keogh
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
